I have been to La Union twice before in my life and this Saturday morning marked my third visit to this unprepossessing port town on the Gulf of Fonseca. It has not improved much with age though it is now thoroughly modern compared to past visits.
In 1986 as a reporter I looked into the state of fishing in the middle of a civil war and found things to be not scintillating.
In 1999 Layne and I and our two dogs stopped here on a passage from Mexico to Nicaragua.The pharmacists were fascinated by my huge patient Labrador Emma adopted by us from the Santa Cruz SPCA and they wanted to pet her.
I didn’t try to pull the same trick with Rusty in the same pharmacy a full generation of employees later...
We bought pupusas from a stand that got five star reviews on Google Msps and they were just fine. Lunch for two for $2:60.
There was a line when I pulled up across the street. That looked promising. We got four to go, one cheese and one bean pupusa each.
Rusty and I walked the streets a bit while Layne went poking around in the shops.
It was hot and busy on the sidewalks of La Union and soon enough Rusty knew when he had had enough, time for his air conditioned bed and a bowl of water.
A half hour on the worst, most potholed road in El Salvador would get us to the iconic El Amatillo border crossing into Honduras.
There is a certain sadness leaving a country you have enjoyed, a place whose customs you have had at least a chance to get used to, a country where you know the currency, the stores, the food and that feels at least slightly familiar. Oh and the paperwork in El Salvador is simple.
Five minutes at customs and I was clear to leave.
Another five minutes at passport control and off we went…
…across the bridge separating El Salvador from Honduras. No eighteen wheelers - lovely!
Among Latin American travelers the Honduran border control building at El Amatillo is famous, a monument. I had longed to cross here and at last my wish was fulfilled.
Except nowadays you don’t drive through, more’s the pity but you find somewhere to park and dodge the touts and money changers who want to “guide” you through a simple process of seeing immigration first. The clerk had lived in Iowa and was delighted by my wife’s birthplace so they chatted and he typed out details and took $3 each.
Across the famous hall was a young lady finishing lunch. She took out papers and typed out our Temporary Import Permit for the GANNET2 -$35. All done in less than an hour.
And lest you think our van journey is remarkable of pioneering check out these stickers, only a few among the travelers who mark their passing here.
We could have easily skipped the quarantine office which we eventually located in a green container among the 18 wheelers jockeying for exit permits for their loads bound for El Salvador. Speaking Spanish saved us and I am not surprised many travelers think there is no pet paperwork requirement at this border. We could have saved $12 and twenty minutes but making Rusty legal saves us worry so we try to do the right thing even when that involves not having a clue where the office might be, we just kept asking and there it was tucked away.
He came out to take Rusty’s official portrait and shocked he was the little bugger didn’t run away.
But as usual he refused to pose for the camera. Layne watched from the passenger seat and laughed.
Even going out of our way slightly to do the right thing cost us twenty minutes and the entire birder crossing from exiting El Salvador to finishing our entry into Honduras took less than ninety minutes.
The open road! Smooth, straight just a few potholes and no speed bumps. Lovely Honduras! I mean there’s more to this country than the roads and we did notice right away some differences, older buses and cars, more trash and magnificent views of mountain ridges volcanoes and huge threatening rain clouds.
And beggars and thin dogs and occasional lunatics strolling up and speaking gibberish. Honduras has been the United States’ staunchest ally through the 20th century and is about the poorest country in Central America. I’m not sure the two are directly related but it makes you think.
…across the bridge separating El Salvador from Honduras. No eighteen wheelers - lovely!
Among Latin American travelers the Honduran border control building at El Amatillo is famous, a monument. I had longed to cross here and at last my wish was fulfilled.
Except nowadays you don’t drive through, more’s the pity but you find somewhere to park and dodge the touts and money changers who want to “guide” you through a simple process of seeing immigration first. The clerk had lived in Iowa and was delighted by my wife’s birthplace so they chatted and he typed out details and took $3 each.
Across the famous hall was a young lady finishing lunch. She took out papers and typed out our Temporary Import Permit for the GANNET2 -$35. All done in less than an hour.
And lest you think our van journey is remarkable of pioneering check out these stickers, only a few among the travelers who mark their passing here.
We could have easily skipped the quarantine office which we eventually located in a green container among the 18 wheelers jockeying for exit permits for their loads bound for El Salvador. Speaking Spanish saved us and I am not surprised many travelers think there is no pet paperwork requirement at this border. We could have saved $12 and twenty minutes but making Rusty legal saves us worry so we try to do the right thing even when that involves not having a clue where the office might be, we just kept asking and there it was tucked away.
He came out to take Rusty’s official portrait and shocked he was the little bugger didn’t run away.
But as usual he refused to pose for the camera. Layne watched from the passenger seat and laughed.
Even going out of our way slightly to do the right thing cost us twenty minutes and the entire birder crossing from exiting El Salvador to finishing our entry into Honduras took less than ninety minutes.
The open road! Smooth, straight just a few potholes and no speed bumps. Lovely Honduras! I mean there’s more to this country than the roads and we did notice right away some differences, older buses and cars, more trash and magnificent views of mountain ridges volcanoes and huge threatening rain clouds.
And beggars and thin dogs and occasional lunatics strolling up and speaking gibberish. Honduras has been the United States’ staunchest ally through the 20th century and is about the poorest country in Central America. I’m not sure the two are directly related but it makes you think.
It’s a mere 100 miles from El Amatillo to the Nicaraguan border but we planned to fiend one night along the way and appear fresh and ready for the customs bureaucracy early on Sunday.
What could be more innocent than two elderly retirees in a van traveling around Central America?
Up next how to locate a safe sleeping spot in a strange land not equipped with campgrounds or even a rudimentary understanding of RV travel! Are we having fun yet? You bet.
